Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
The bottle of water is still sealed and a breath of relief pulses through me before I put the pills into my mouth and open the water. They go down with ease and the cold water hitting the bottom of my empty stomach only goes to remind me just how fucking hungry I am.
“Alright, you should be good to start,” Roman says, drawing every ounce of my attention as he places the suture kit down beside me. He pushes the limits as his fingers come a shitload closer than they had before and my body tenses, waiting for him to retract. Hell, he’s probably jealous that his youngest brother somehow managed to get away with touching me without me bitching him out, but unlike Levi, Roman is the one I have vivid memories of, chasing me through the castle, the car wrecking from his bullet, and his gun aiming right between my eyes. Roman and I will never be cool, no matter how hard he tries. Some things a girl just can’t come back from.
Trying to keep my mind away from the tragic memories swarming through my mind, I take the needle in my hands, check the wound is properly numbed, and meet Roman’s heavy stare. The sooner I get this over and done with, the sooner I’ll be back beside Marcus, his warm arms wrapped tightly around my waist. “What do I do?”
7
Steam fills the bathroom as I step out of the shower and pull my towel around me, cautiously patting my healing wounds. It’s been two days since Marcus woke up and two days since I’ve been treated like the goddamn queen of this castle, and I fucking hate it.
Don’t get me wrong, a bunch of sexy-as-sin mafia men treating me like the sun shines out of my ass is what my wildest dreams are made of, but knowing why they’re doing it makes me sick. There’s nothing genuine about it, just two brutal men regretting their decision to think of me as a piece of meat on a butcher’s table. I’m sure once their guilt wears away, so will their need to treat me like royalty.
After drying myself off and cracking the door, the steam fades away and I can clearly see the stranger staring back at me through the mirror. This isn’t the girl I grew up with, the girl who was shit-scared of her father and who put herself through hell just to survive. This isn’t the girl who found the courage to leave when she was barely eighteen, who somehow pushed through four years of bullshit to finally come out the other end a stronger woman. This girl staring back at me is a stranger. I barely know myself anymore.
My body is covered in more cuts and bruises than I’ve ever had in my life. More than I ever received from my father during my whole eighteen years of hell with him. There are deep bags beneath my eyes, my cheeks have started to hollow out, and I can see all too much of my collarbone through my skin.
I need to get back to normalcy. I need to find freedom, happiness, and health, and this is not a place for healing, especially with three broody assholes who can turn on you in the blink of an eye. Not to mention their father who likes to drop countless guards on the property to attack at the first sign of movement.
Fucking Giovanni. I hate that guy. He’s a piece of shit, though the hell he put me through is nothing quite like the hell he’s rained down over his sons for an entire lifetime.
Shit, there I go feeling sorry for those bastards again. I have to stop thinking of them as broken souls or as victims in their enormous castle. They’re monsters; even Marcus is the direct result of what their father created. They’re not to be toyed with, not to be trusted, and sure as fuck not to be loved.
After towel drying my hair and watching as it falls in damp waves down my back, I toss my towel into the hamper and grab my gorgeous champagne silk dressing gown off the side of the massive bathtub. Threading my arms through the holes, I let out a satisfied sigh. I’ve never had a dressing gown before, especially not one quite so luxurious. It’s the softest thing I’ve ever worn and I’m not going to lie, with my body still so sore, it’s the only piece of clothing I’ve been able to wear over the past two days, but I absolutely hate it. I only have this extraordinary gift because of what the guys did to me.
Bullshit gifts have been appearing everywhere. An expensive perfume in the living room, a diamond bracelet on my bedside table, the matching necklace gift wrapped in the dining hall. It’s getting insane, but I’m not stupid. I like shiny things, and the longer I keep my mouth shut about it, the longer the gifts will keep coming. There have been at least six gifts so far and they’re always something small, professionally wrapped with a little note attached. None of the notes ever say who it’s from but my guess is Levi. Roman is too stubborn for that shit.